


Can You Move Your Seat Up?

by usa123



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Missing Scene, No one wants to sit in the passenger's seat, Snarky Bucky, Snarky Sam, Steve just wants to keep the peace, Supersoldier Problem Solving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 18:18:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6868189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usa123/pseuds/usa123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene from the Civil War re: the seating arrangement in the Bug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can You Move Your Seat Up?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short scene from the Civil War that predicates the "Can you move your seat up?" zinger. Spoilers ahead so this is the time to turn back if you haven't seen the movie yet. Thanks in advance for reading!

“This is our getaway car?” Sam Wilson asked in disbelief, gaping at the dark blue VW Beetle in front of him.

“It’s inconspicuous,” Steve shot back defensively, as he rubbed at the back of his neck.

Something about that motion was very familiar to Bucky though he was currently finding it hard to figure out why-probably had something to do with the jerk who had just rescrambled his brain.  Frickin' Hydra. 

"There’s no backseat,” Barnes pointed out instead, before his brain could get stuck in that downward spiral.

“Well, there _is._ ” Rogers popped the passenger’s side door, pushed the seatback down and rolled it forward on its track, revealing the tiny entrance to the back.  He looked back at the two of them and wasn't surprised to see their unamused expressions.

Sam shot Bucky a wary look.  “I don’t suppose you’re going to ride in the back, Steve?” Wilson asked hopefully, his eyes never leaving the (supposedly) ex-assassin's.

Rogers shook his head.  “I’m driving,” he declared in a tone that left very little room for argument.

Sam and Bucky stared at each other for a long moment then, as if a starting pistol had been fired, dove for the entrance to the backseat in unison.  In their hurry, they tried to get through the small doorway at the same time and ended up wedged in the frame, like something one would see in a slapstick comedy.

“I’m getting in the back,” Bucky growled as he tried to shove Sam out of the way.

Wilson leveraged himself against the frame then threw his weight in the opposite direction, earning himself a tiny opening.  “Over my dead body,” he shot back, instantly regretting it as he realized who he was talking to.

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms yanked Sam and Bucky out of the car and shoved them in opposite directions.  “What the hell is going on?” Steve demanded, his eyes flashing.

Sam shrugged out of Steve's grip and tugged his shirt into its rightful position.  “I am not sitting in front of him.  He could snap my neck at any moment.”

“I don’t do that anymore,” Bucky countered.  “Besides, you were in the army.  You might do the same thing to me.”

“ _No one_ is snapping anyone’s necks,” Steve interjected, glaring at both of them.  Undeterred by his words, Sam and Bucky glared right back.

The impromptu staring contest continued for another moment before Rogers finally looked away.  “Well, we need to get going, so one of you has to sit in the front,” he stated, in a surrender of sorts.

“There is a tactical disadvantage to sitting in the front,” Bucky scowled as he fixed Sam with his best death glare, hoping it would convince the other man would cave.  He had seen enough footage of Wilson fighting with the Avengers though to not be surprised when Sam just shook his head, looking almost amused by Barnes' efforts.

“But there’s more leg room,” Steve exclaimed, scooting the seat back to its normal place and motioning to the footwell as if that would change someone’s mind.  

Unfortunately, neither man budged.

Steve scowled at the two of them, his face scrunching up in exasperation.  Something about this expression also resonated with Bucky and, after a quick mental debate, he rolled his eyes, sighed deeply, then held out a vertical fist.  “I’ll rock, paper, scissors you for it, Wilson.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Rogers actually burst out laughing.  Bucky immediately retracted his hand, simultaneously regretting his decision to solve this problem without using force. “Do people not do that anymore?” he asked, a look of genuine confusion on his face.

Steve immediately sobered when he saw his friend's expression.  “I’m sorry Buck," he was quick to say. "Yes, people do.  Mostly kids though.”

“Oh.” Barnes opened his fist and dropped his hand by his side.  

In that instant, a brief dejected look passed over his face before it was hidden behind a wall of necessary indifference.  It was that slip though that convinced Sam that this Bucky was truly not the Winter Soldier and, for the first time, Wilson thought he was seeing Barnes as Steve did: a man who had been through the unthinkable and who was trying to regain his place in the world.  

The pararescue cursed under his breath, exhaled loudly, then held out his own fist.  “Fine, Barnes.  Rock, paper, scissors, it is.”

Bucky looked up in genuine surprise.  "C'mon," Sam encouraged as he shook his fist up and down.  Barnes slowly nodded and, after a moment's consideration, held out his own fist again, with much less confidence than he had had previously.

“On three,” Sam instructed and the two raised their fists in tandem.

“Rock.”

“Paper.”

“Scissors.”

_Crap._

* * *

 “I’m sorry Sam,” Steve said from his uncontested position in the driver's seat.

“Shut it, Steve,” Wilson snapped bitterly as he waited for Bucky to crawl into the back.  Once the soldier was semi-situated, Sam rolled the passenger's seat as far back as it would go, noting with no small satisfaction that it was directly against Bucky's knees.

“Sam,” Steve began, “is that really–”

“He literally ripped the steering wheel out of my hands, Steve,” Sam retorted as he flipped the seat up, grabbed the hand grip and slid inside the small car.

Rogers opened his mouth to protest but Sam cut him off again. “–and tore off one of my wings…while I was in the air.”

Steve still looked like he wanted to object but Wilson just shook his head, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the seat.  After a split second, he reached out with his right hand and tugged down the sun visor, flipping open the mirror so he could maintain a visual on Barnes.  

By this point, even Steve seemed to realize that protesting was futile for he closed his mouth and turned on the ancient radio.

“I'm not going to hurt you," Bucky said, hunching down slightly so Sam could read the sincerity in his expression.

"You'll forgive me if I'm not reassured," Sam fired back.   A part of him knew he was being harsh but given all the Soldier had put him through, he figured he was entitled to at least this much.

From his tight quarters in the backseat, Bucky considered his options.  He could move behind Steve but, after a cursory glance, realized he would have even less room there, as his friend had his seat all the way back just so he could fit his right knee under the steering wheel.  He could sit in the middle but that would require his feet straddling the raised segment of the floor, which seemed even more uncomfortable than this current situation.  So, without any other viable options, he was stuck sitting behind Sam.  

He briefly considered maintaining his current orientation, his knees digging into the back of the passenger's seat, which would make this trip uncomfortable for Sam as well, but in the end he decided it wasn't worth it.  He _had_ won the tactical advantage of the backseat which meant he had to expend that much less energy in watching his surroundings and...well, it hadn't escaped his notice how Sam had had Steve's back over the last two years.  When he considered that he had also tried to kill Wilson twice, Barnes came to the conclusion that he supposed he owed Sam this much.

So Bucky shifted his legs so they weren't pinned directly under Sam's seat and leaned back as much as he could.  Perhaps in half an hour, when they had to stop to pick up Rogers' and Wilson's gear, he would breech the subject again, hoping that by then the airman's anger had faded enough to reconsider moving his seat up slightly.

Until then, Barnes could do nothing but fervently hope that, somehow in the last seven decades, Steve had become a better driver than he had been during the war.


End file.
